


‘cause everything is new (and everything is you)

by mutterandmumble



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arcades, F/F, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Holding Hands, No Dialogue, Short, ambiguously after high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 09:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21491962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutterandmumble/pseuds/mutterandmumble
Summary: It’s in times like these, where Hitoka feels her hip brushing against Kiyoko’s thigh and her shoulder barely touching the top of Kiyoko’s bicep that she feels the difference in their heights most strongly; when she has to look up at Kiyoko to see her eyes, to see the flyaway strands of hair that stand faint against her forehead, the freckles over the arch of her nose. It’s when things like this happen that she wonders just how far back she would have to lean her head to kiss her.
Relationships: Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka
Kudos: 44





	‘cause everything is new (and everything is you)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from lay all your love on me by ABBA and honestly? It’s about time 
> 
> Alright sorry this took so long but my dumbass went and burned myself out. I’ve just outright not been well lately. But I love my girls, and I haven’t written for them for _way_ to much time. So here it is! Here they are! I’ve only ever written one kiss scene besides this one, I think, and that was like a year ago so I figured it was high time I gave it another shot. Everything else in this is just really basic framing honestly.

Their first date is at an arcade.

It’s not what either of them would have expected- Kiyoko doesn’t much like loud noise, and Hitoka doesn’t care at  _ all  _ for the competitive atmosphere that hangs around the groups of children and young adults that gather there, but somehow it works. It’s a good excuse to stand close to each other anyways; the machines are tall and bright, cluttered into rickety rows along narrow pathways, and the clanging of tokens mixed with impassioned shouting and the dim lighting makes for a place that’s easy to get separated in.

So- because it’s  _ convenient,  _ of course- they holding hands.

Hitoka’s face is burning. She keeps her eyes fixed firmly on the carpet- neon shapes and swirls and corkscrews, swimming over the black carpet like they would the backs of her eyes, were she to shut them too tight too quickly- and tries desperately to soak in every sensation that this new, new experience is bringing. Holding hands with Kiyoko is just as warm as she had imagined; she can feel the scrape of their skin, the heat seeping through their fingers, the flexing of their muscles as they slide against one another. She’s worried that her palm is sweaty, that her nerves are shaking right through her and into Kiyoko, but the other girl seems at ease; comfortable enough to shoot a small smile at Hitoka and then tug her somewhat confidently down the row of claw machines, anyways.

Hitoka is not good at claw machines. She clings tighter.

They end up in front of the one at the very end of the row- it’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary, smudged glass and orange-yellow plastic, a mirrored back and rows upon rows of cute stuffed cats, but to be able to play it together they have to stay pressed side to side, so Hitoka thinks that it might just be the best game on the planet. There they are, alone in their small corner, warm where they’re close and cool in the spaces where their bodies don’t quite fit together, and it’s  _ amazing _ . Kiyoko’s  _ amazing.  _ It’s in times like these, where Hitoka feels her hip brushing against Kiyoko’s thigh and her shoulder barely touching the top of Kiyoko’s bicep that she feels the difference in their heights most strongly; when she has to look up at Kiyoko to see her eyes, to see the flyaway strands of hair that stand faint against her forehead, the freckles over the arch of her nose. It’s when things like this happen that she wonders just how far back she would have to lean her head to kiss her. Is their height difference pronounced enough that she would have to raise up onto her tiptoes? Would Kiyoko’s hand rest on Hitoka’s back or tangle up into her hair?

Hitoka will admit that she’s daydreamed about it- often, during class and on the train, and late at night when she can’t sleep- but it’s never seemed as much of a possibility as it does  _ now.  _

The realization dredges up a whole new flutter of nerves from her stomach. She shivers softly.

Kiyoko, as it turns out, is  _ very  _ good at games like these. The very first round has her reaching down to pull the prize she won from the dispenser; and with her own face red and eyes averted, she presents it to Hitoka. 

Hitoka takes it after only a moment of spluttering. When she does their fingertips meet, and then Kiyoko’s eyes dart to Hitoka’s for a split second, and suddenly there’s a buzz in the air and a buzz in Hitoka and a buzzing from the broken neon lights above the game next to them, and they’re close. And closer, and closer, and closer they inch, until they’re less than a breath away. 

With a sudden surge of confidence, Hitoka leans forwards.

It’s a bundle of sensations that follows; the flashing of the scoreboard above the skeeball machine to their left, the mechanized noises blaring from the game behind them, the fabric of Kiyoko’s sleeves bunching up into Hitoka’s fingers as she kisses back- her neck aches from the awkward angle, and she’s not quite tall enough so Kiyoko has curved down to meet her, but it’s  _ perfect.  _ Right down to the push of the (much forgotten) plush cat’s tail between them. One of Kiyoko’s hands has begun to skim up and down Hitoka’s arm, slipping to trace circles on her back, and she feels like there are embers burning away in her stomach. This feels right, in a way that keeps her head on straight.

Her hesitance, overthrown by a bit of impulse, mixed with Kiyoko’s intense steadiness and their combined ways of being careful and cautious show in how it ends; with both of them pulling back, Hitoka’s face red again and Kiyoko’s going pink as they look at each other. The moment has stretched to accommodate both of them, Hitoka’s hands having migrated up to Kiyoko’s shoulders and Kiyoko’s mouth having stretched into a smile.

And Hitoka, still alight and alert and  _ alive,  _ smiles right back. She won’t pretend to be an expert on first dates, but this?

This seems to be going pretty well.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed!! I love hearing from you guys!!!


End file.
